He shook his head, "There's no point in it. You already figured it out when we entered, didn't you?"
"Even before that," Issei pointed at the Fallen beside him, "Why would he insist on sitting beside me, if he isn't expecting company?"
"It could be a whim," Azazel interjected, "I could just be feeling extra loving towards my dear student."
"Shush, you perv. The adults are talking." It wasn't Issei who said that. But she did get a thumbs-up from him. "Now, if you men are done with your games, can we get to the matters at hand?"
"Ah, right. The matters. Young man, we've been looking for someone like you." Sirzechs' eyes flickered between Azazel and Issei as he leaned forward. "But before we get to it, can you both tell us what you were discussing earlier?"
"There we go again," Issei grumbled behind his bowl, drinking the broth.
"Nothing much, we were just talking about Kokabiel being a pain as usual."
His fingers knit together, "Issei, Azazel said you have been on the Kokabiel's new case, Is that true?"
Issei looked towards the Fallen leader, silently asking whether he should disclose the information. When he got an affirmation, he shrugged, "Only half of it. This slavedriver right here has been sending me to clear out the rubbish that Cock-An'-bill manages to persuade to his side frequently. But I am not chasing the short-fuse himself. That's waaay out of my league."
"So, your next mission location will be in…?"
"Kuoh." Azazel filled in for Issei, crossing his legs. "The town that is currently under your and Sera's sister's oversight."
"Regarding that," Grayfia began, sweeping a rebellious strand down her ear, "Issei, we heard you don't work for the Fallen Angels."
Issei's brows furrowed. He did not like the tone of that; it smelled like a hidden agenda. Feeling the conversation heading in an unexpected direction, he put his almost-finished bowl down. "Yeah…that is true. I do it for the money and the favours I owe him specifically," He said, pointing his chopsticks to his left, "But I am not a part of Gregory."
"Toma-to; to-mato." The fallen chimed humorously.
"Then, would you be interested in a commission during your eventual stay in the Kuoh town?" Her question, delivered with that same flat expression, landed like a bomb.
Hearing that, Issei's first reaction was to leave the seat and walk out of this establishment and pretend this meeting never happened.
He didn't do it. Instead, he glared towards the bastard sitting to his left, who was sipping his Ramen broth.
Why would he tell them that?! That question hammered in his head. Why the fuck would he snitch him out like that?!?!
With clenched jaws, he grabbed the glass of water, filled only a quarter way through, and subconsciously channeled a little of the draconic energy into it, doubling the quantity and then filling it full.
He stared at the rippling surface, debating whether to continue with the courtesy anymore. He didn't do it for the money. It was just an excuse. This secret side of the world was overflowing with cash. Anyone who'd spent even a short stint had more than enough to keep their banks filled for a lifetime.
It was also not because of his unwarranted ego of the Red dragon inhabiting his subconscious that his predecessors had in droves.
Sure, he might supposedly be a tad bit special; might be the only one in the whole world who had reincarnated in such strange circumstances, had a longinus to himself as a birthright, and the natural ease with which he wielded it. But he'd long forgotten most of the specialness that he had
Not to mention, it did not come without any side effects. It was painful. Every time he fought, even the smallest wound he suffered; it didn't heal. He lacked the natural healing ability and the inbuilt immunity of any living, breathing being possessed.
It was as if his body had long refused to acknowledge that he was alive. A constant reminder that he was inhabiting the flesh that was never meant for him; that he was merely a puppeteer piloting a corpse.
"Fuck," Issei shook his head. Annoying. So fucking annoying. He took a deep breath and exhaled through his mouth. Looking ahead at the two unwanted guests, his expression soured.
"You came all the way to beg a cripple for help??" He snipped, "Is the Illustrious and hailed Satan so inept that he couldn't arrange for a better candidate to resolve his troubles?!"
"Cripple?" Grayfia leaned forward, a confused frown on her face as she did him a once-over, "But I don't see—"
"Your informant didn't tell you that?" Issei interrupted her with a mocking smirk, looking to his side at Azazel, "Well, you got scammed. Your informant sold you a fake image. I am nowhere near strong enough to handle whatever is troubling Lord Satan here."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. Tilting her head towards Azazel, she asked, "Is that true, Governor General?'
Azazel pinched his nose, "This is going nowhere." He closed his eyes and scrubbed his hand against the stretch of his cheek and forehead. Exhaling a deep, tired sigh, his fingers dug into his closed sockets. "Issei," He emphasized, "Could you stop being an ass and just listen to what they have to say?"
"Why should I? Did you listen when I said this fighting shit sucks balls, and that I hate doing it? No, right?! Instead, you went ahead and pimped me to your chums for some brownie points. So then why should I listen to what any of you has to say?!"
"I promise you, you'd like what they have to s-"
"You don't decide that!!" Issei hissed. The golden dust in his irises danced in an eerie rhythm as the Ddriag's suppressed draconic aura seeped out of him. It broke the fragile noise-cancelling dome around them, drawing everyone's attention towards their table, "You promised you won't sell me out!"
"Good grief," Azazel shook his head, disappointed, "You're acting like a kid right now."
"I am acting like-!!"
"Sit down," Azazel calmly said. He gestured vaguely towards the small crowd of turned heads looking their way; some sneakily, and others brazenly. "You're making an unnecessary scene."
Issei followed his gaze towards the spectators. Their vast range of emotions, ranging from simple curiosity to veiled contempt to faint amusement to genuine confusion on their faces. He shrunk.
"Shit…"
Embarrassed, he quickly sat down, looking at his feet. Azazel gestured to Grayfia, who answered with a curt nod. The next instant, all the customers turned their backs to them and returned to whatever they were doing before Issei's outburst.
For the next long minute, no one at their table spoke. Grayfia and Sirzechs just sat with their bowls untouched. Azazel enjoyed his portion, slurping on the noodles loudly while he let Issei squirm uncomfortably in his chair.
Finally, he put down the bowl, "Now that everyone has had moments to reflect on their action, let's move forward."
"Brat, I know you have questions. Shoot."
He looked up, his shoulders hunched and voice soft, "Why did you tell them about me? And why arrange this meeting when you know I don't like it?"
Azazel poured himself a glass of water. "I did it for you."
"Liar. You did it because you thought this could help establish your friendship with the devils, just so you could get a step further towards your utopia."
Zaza did not deny it, "The great king faction gaining more influence over the four satan faction is the worst outcome for me as well."
Issei's eyes widened comically. He sat up straight, "Zekram bael's faction…!"
Zaza rolled his eyes, "Impatient dumbass." Shrugging his shoulder, he passed the explanation to the two devils sitting before them.
Grayfia took the cue and began explaining, "Yes. We'd come here hoping you would be interested in foiling the Bael ancestors' schemes. You see, we have our hands bound in these matters, and when we came to lord Azazel here, he suggested you. Of course, we'd also compensate you for your troubles."
Issei was already on board with that first statement. Fucking up that old bastard's plan, however small, was his life's mission. After how that cunt drove him out of his hometown, he'd be damned if he didn't accept this 'commission'. To that end, he was quite happy to forget the fact that Azazel had still sold him out like a commodity without his permission.
"Err…sorry about that." Issei stared at the couple ahead, feigning awkwardness. In reality, he was leaning over the table, grinning wickedly, "Could you tell me more about this proposition of yours again?"
"…About the compensation as well." He hurriedly added. A little extra money never hurt anybody, right?
"Thank the satans," Sirzechs slumped on his chair, looking more relieved than ever since he walked in. He peeped through the gaps in his fingers and dryly remarked, "You have quite the unnerving eyes, Issei."
Grayfia squeezed his thigh under the table as she got ready to brief the young dragon on the task.
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"The time is 00:51. This concludes the late-night news. Good night."
Issei and Azazel walked out of the amber lights. Sirzechs and Grayfia had already left moments ago. As they stepped into the silent street, Issei stretched his sore limbs, his bones popping like bubble wraps. "Can't believe I agreed to that."
The cool night breeze hit him on his face, drawing out a pleased whimper after sitting hours inside the stale air. Even the gloomy blank sky didn't look all that bad in that moment.
Azazel, besides him, smirked, "Better start preparing for it, crybaby. You're going back to school."
Issei threw his head back, "I am already regretting it."
"No, you're not," Azazel laughed, "By the way, where's my apology?"
"What apology?"
"For the accusation earlier, that I pimped you out."
"You did," Issei snorts, "Don't think I don't see through your schemes, asshole."
Azazel cinched his arm around Issei, pulling him in a rough, affectionate headlock, "Ungrateful brat!"
"Hey! Get off me, you perv!" He protested, "Ughh….you stink!"
"Hah! My perfume costs 10 times your salary, brat!"
"Of course, it does. You damned slavedriver!"
They began to stroll away, throwing banter and barbs. "Give me a month, and I'd convince mum and dad to move back to the town."
Azazel side-eyed him, "Want my help? I can sign your pops' transfer papers. I bought that company after all."
"No need. A few midnight tantrums are sure to work wonders."
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A/N:
So, as you would've already figured out by now, this fic is set in an Alternate universe. That is not to say everything is different, but there are a few things here and there that would appear uncanny when compared to the universe of the OG story. Like the absence of the full moon.
It had stopped appearing in the Kuoh sky. Strangely, it exists just fine outside the archipelago. And there is a reason for it, but that's for later.
Here, in this story, the past would largely follow the canon. But I'd take some creative liberties and use the gaps in the timeline to twist and turn things to create a new landscape that hopefully you'll like.
As for why I chose Issei instead of just making a new OC. Well, I just couldn't. I needed the narrative of three faction alliance to tell the story, and that only happens because of the events that happened previously in Kuoh.
So, if I created an OC, I'd have to come up with a convenient excuse to have him sent to Kuoh without it feeling forced and then add to it, writing around Issei the protagonist. Man, that's tough. Heavenly dragons have this hallow of fate over their heads; you can't write around them.
And finally, why I chose Boosted gear, despite it being too vanilla. Uhmm, I don't plan on using it the regular way. That is why this Issei is special; that is why this Issei is crippled.
With that said- Like, share, and subscri-....I mean, add to library, comment, and stay tuned for the next episode of Dragon Ball Z...